The auto-bike's hot lines and shifty stealth sure turns heads from civilians and bikers alike. Men and women young and old, and little innocent children clamored to the DN, wanting to know what the hell I was riding, why it was so weirdly quiet, and where they can get one. From tattooed, beer-swilling bikers to the sleek, full-body-armor superbike set, the approving nods, thumbs-up, dumbfounded smiles, and occasional tossed ladies undergarments validated the unexpected coolness of the DN-01.
Here are the magic buttons,...
Here are the magic buttons, on the right grip is the switch to put it in drive or take it back to neutral.
Almost invisible to the left...
Almost invisible to the left is the lever which clicks it to manual shifting. On the left grip are the toggle switches to change "gear" ratios.
Honda thinks it has launched a whole new genre of motorcycle, the "crossover." The DN-01 combines sportbike, cruiser and even scooter elements. Certainly, tech-heads and lazy-butts will embrace the DN-01's shapely mix of gadgetry, mindless movement, and "organic" aerodynamics like an old hippie hugs a tree. Old-skoolers will not be so thrilled.
Grizzled motorcycle veterans will take awhile to stop grabbing for an invisible clutch lever, as their left boot continues to do its instinctive foot shifter dance. Curmudgeons will gripe about the DN-01's Gen X/Y modernism, flailing their arms and yelping that true biking is dead.
There's no choke, no kickstart, no carburetor, no gas tank as they know it, and the handlebar looks funny. The bike does not smell of oil or gasoline, the offset rear mono-shock looks like the factory forgot the other absorber, and nobody's sure where the hell the swingarm went to. And why in the world is there an emergency hand brake? Worse still, you can barely feel the street beneath you as the bike silently rolls through its speeds like some kind of secret, two-wheel reconnaissance drone on a mission.
It's been decades since clutching and shifting has seen any significant change. Sure, there's been stabs at an automatic bike before, including Honda's own circa 1970s goofy Hondamatic, but nothing that took. There was more of a nostalgic movement to return to pre-WWII stick shift and foot clutches than move forward with a better, safer, quicker way to change speeds.
There is something primal about using all your arms and legs, hands, feet and head to operate a machine. It makes you feel like you're part of the motor, and the bike is part of you. This isn't a bad thing. An intrinsic aspect of the zen of motorcycling is feeling like you are one with the bike, and this can help you both survive. When the bike feels like it is doing everything for you, where's the challenge?